The Devil's Backbone
by RevlerRose
Summary: Directly following the events of Marvel's Defenders on Netflix this story contains some spoilers for the end of that series. This is a Karen Page/Frank Castle is story is heavy on the angst and smut. You have been warned. Karen is attacked on her way home from the police department. I'm terrible at summaries but, if you've read some of my other work, you know how I roll.


**Hey Fan-fiction friends - I know it has been awhile but, I was listening to a song by the Civil Wars last night and something about it struck a cord with me. Karen and Frank came to mind and I couldn't get this little ditty out of my head. Hopefully you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please be warned this story contains GRAPHIC depictions of SEXUAL acts. If this is not your type of story I completely understand but, if you continue I don't want anyone surprised. Also, fair warning, that the events of this story take place directly following the conclusion of The Defenders on Netflix. If you haven't seen the show be warned this story does contain SPOILERS for the ending of this season. With all that in mind I have to give one last disclaimer that, of course, I make no money off this story. I wish I did but, the characters contained within are all the sole proprietary property of Marvel and its' affiliates. I'm just playing with their toys in the off season...**

 _Oh Lord, Oh Lord, what have I done?_

 _I've fallen in love with a man on the run_

 _Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I'm begging you please_

 _Don't take that sinner from me_

 _Oh don't take that sinner from me_

 _Oh Lord, Oh Lord, what do I do?_

 _I've fallen for someone who's nothing like you_

 _He's raised on the edge of the devil's backbone_

 **Devil's Backbone -** (The Civil Wars)

It had been almost a year; eleven months, sixteen days, and a handful of hours. Frank was sure that, if he sat down to think about it, he could figure out the exact time but, that would be creepy; so he didn't.

Almost a whole goddamn year since the last time Frank Castle had let Karen Page see him.

The cool autumn air had traded its temperate breezes for a sundown chill that caused Frank's breath to huff out in little vapor clouds against the October night. He was twelve floors up on the roof of a tenement building on the north side of Hell's kitchen watching his dulcet angel make her way home. He watched her most nights. Made him feel like a fucking creeper but, her safety was a priority of his own skewed views of self worth and, ever since Red had disappeared off the gameboard, he worried for her safety. Even with Fisk inside the Kingpin still had connections all over Hell's Kitchen and Page's investigative pieces had painted the crime boss a less than attractive public portrait.

So Frank watched her, the nights he could, just to make sure.

At least that was what Frank Castle told himself.

In reality Frank Castle knew there was more to his 8 o'clock ritual than protecting Karen Page but, if he thought too much about what that 'more' was, it made his brain itch in a funny way and, he didn't like that. So he avoided thinking about what the 'more' was and that was how Frank Castle was able to justify these evenings; by not overthinking them.

On this particular evening, when Frank got back into town, just after six thirty, even though the bare mattress in the corner of the squat he frequented called his name, he made his way to the building across from the Hell's Kitchen precinct, pulled his ballcap low over his eyes, and nursed a cup of coffee while he waited for her to emerge.

Frank had gone to the Bulletin first but, when he'd seen her office light was off he'd contacted a snitch inside the department and found his girl had been taken into 'temporary protective custody.' A 'byproduct of her connection to the Devil of Hell's Kitchen and an ongoing investigation into Midland Financial.'

Frank wasn't surprised about Midland. He'd been following the money in and out of the mostly empty high rise for two months and some change. It was heroin money laundered through nightclubs and scrubbed clean on the backs of day laborers. About the only thing that surprised Frank about the shock wave that echoed throughout Hell's Kitchen, little after midnight, was how long it took Red to get back in the game and take it down. Frank would have done it himself but, he was in the middle of following a flesh peddling ring into Jersey. Having his hands tied up with castrating those assholes had really filled up his schedule.

It was after one in the morning before Karen finally appeared outside the precinct. The chubby lawyer was walking her out. They stopped briefly in front of a newer model Benz and Frank watched as Karen and 'what's his name' embraced briefly before her shoulders started shaking. Frank could tell, even from across the street, Karen was crying. They were the deep body wracking sobs that Frank hated seeing from women. The kind he knew they couldn't fake. The kind that came from real pain. Frank's forehead creased under the bill of his ballcap and he examined the cooling quarter inch of coffee in the bottom of his cup.

When he glanced back up Frank saw the lawyer softly stroking Karen's hair as he held both sides of her face. She gave her friend a weak smile and Frank grimaced when he watched her lean in a place a light kiss on the pudgy man's cheek. Frank didn't like that, seeing her kiss him but, he watched it anyway. Frank watched the lawyer gesture to the Benz and point down the street. When Karen shook her head the lawyer embraced her again, got into the Benz, and slowly back out of the angled parking space, into late night traffic, before disappearing between two canary yellow taxis.

When Frank saw Karen begin to move he paralleled her pace from across the street. He moved from building to building with relative ease, staying half a block ahead of her, and using the fire escapes to jump the narrow alleys from building to building. Most of the old tenements were so close he was able to make the hop straight from one roof to the next. It was that scant half a block, just a few dozen paces he had in front of her stride, that allowed him the see the twitching little cracked out mother fucker just before Karen did.

"Fuck," Frank bit out into the night. His brain scrambled for a plan of action. Panic seized his muscles. This never happened. Why the fuck was he across the street? Why the fuck did he stay so far away? Goddamn it; why the fuck didn't he clear the route earlier? If he'd really stopped to think about it Frank would have realized that this whole routine, following her, checking on her, was for more for his piece of mind then Karen's safety but, Frank didn't stop to think. He had a singular brief moment of panic before, stepping off the ledge of the building he was on, grabbing the fire escape railing, and riding it down the alley between the two brick structures across from Karen. He could hear her already, across the street, in a loud clear voice.

"Back the fuck up!"

'Good Girl; get loud'

Frank ran into the street without looking, a taxi screeched to a halt, someone laid on their horn, and there was yelling; she was yelling.

"Get the fuck away from me!"

'Say it like you mean it! Loud and clear!'

Frank made the middle of street, stumbled on the median, and looked up. The crackhead had her by the hair the other hand held a knife and was tugging on her purse.

Frank launched himself across the remaining two lanes of traffic. A bumper tapped his shin and he didn't stop.

By the time he made the curb Karen was holding her gun but, he was already too late. Angry red ribbons of blood cascaded down her left arm and she was shaking as she tried to support her aim. The junkie saw Frank, realized the turning of the tide, and staggered backwards.

Frank took a single second to register Karen's look of utter shock before his mind twisted and he lost his tenuous grasp on his self control.

Later Frank would remember little snip-its. The warm feel of the junkie's blood as it flowed onto his fists during the beating. A canine tooth that split his knuckle as he broke the mother fucker's jaw. The shuddering feeling of breath leaving the junkie's body as his hands constricted around the shitbird's throat. Karen slapping his back, open handed, trying to get his attention. Her hand grabbing at his. Seeing the blood from her arm mingle with the blood the coated his hands.

"The cops, Frank. The cops." Her voice sounded panicked. It took him a beat to hear the closing wail of sirens.

When Frank stood his breathing was ragged. Karen had her right hand tugging on his left, slipping on the blood that coated his fingers, and trying again to gain purchase. "Frank we have to go." He focused on her briefly before realizing that, just over her shoulder, some fat faced little asshole teenager was filming everything from behind an iphone. Frank gave Karen a curt nod, picked up her purse, and let her pull him in the direction of her apartment. On the way by he grabbed the asshole's phone, broke it in half, and stuffed the half with the memory card in his pocket. The kid never made a move to stop him, just stared, mouth half open.

Frank didn't know how long it took them to get to her apartment. Time was acting funny. He didn't even register walking the stairs to her front door. The jingle of her keys pulled his focus to the present and he watched as she opened the door to her small studio. He'd only been there, inside, the one time.

As Karen fumbled with the lock on her front door she glanced back at Frank. His gaze was somewhere far away. Her hands were slick with her own blood and it took her a couple of tries to get the key in the lock. When she finally turned the key and stepped through the entry Karen looked back to Frank. He was still staring past her at some ghost of a memory. She reached forward and grabbed a handful of his jacket to pull him through the door. Before closing it Karen snatched the rag off her dish drainer and used it to wipe the blood smudges off her doorknob.

Frank came back to reality with the soft click of the Karen's deadbolt sliding home. He slid off his jacket and side-stepped Karen's questioning gaze on his way to the tragically small bathroom. Once inside he threw open the tiny doors under her sink in search of a first aid kit.

"Frank?"

Karen's voice sounded tired and Frank didn't answer. He stood from his place in the bathroom and turned to head into the bedroom. Where the Hell would she keep a first aid kit?

"Frank?"

He heard water run in the postage stamp kitchen, on the other side of the breakfast bar that served as a divider from the 'bedroom.' Frank's eyes scanned the bedroom for anywhere she could have stashed bandages and antiseptic.

When Frank turned to head back toward the bathroom, maybe there was a hall closet he missed, he stopped on his heels. She was standing directly in his path. She'd rinsed off her arm and had wrapped a dish towel around the wound. When he tried to move around her she reached up slowly, with her injured arm, and placed her hand flat in the middle of his chest.

Karen almost pulled her hand away but, something in his eyes told her to keep it there. His eyes were wild, like the unbroken mustangs back home. She knew you had to go slow with an animal like that; slow but, firm. Karen took the moment to examine him. They'd moved so fast back to her apartment she hadn't really gotten a good look at him but, she'd trusted him anyway. Now, face to face, she could see how much he'd changed since their last meeting. His hair was longer than last she'd seen. It had a slight curl to it and part of her wanted to touch the edges but, she left her hand where it was. There was a fresh scar across his right eyebrow that left puckered edges. His beard definitely had more than a few days worth of growth and it was peppered with stark white hairs dispersed unevenly throughout the curly bristle. Karen looked up to meet his eyes. Those wild eyes. Pupils blown with adrenaline rimmed with a dark brown that she could get lost in for days. Brown like Matt's eyes. Fuck. Matt.

Frank watched Karen examine him. He wanted to pick her up and set her on the sofa so he could look for something to clean her arm with. He wanted to go back in time and snap that crack head's neck before he'd ever seen her. He'd failed her. He had one job and he'd fucking failed her. He'd almost lost her tonight. Frank heard his own teeth grind as the thought pushed through his head. He'd almost lost her; just like that. She was looking in his eyes now, 'God her eyes are gorgeous' they were rimmed with red, from crying, but, it only served to highlight the crystal clear blue of her irises more, and, just for a second he thought she was going to kiss him.

Karen looked away first. When she spoke she dropped her arm to her side and spoke to the floor. "What are you looking for Frank?"

The questions was so loaded Frank feared an accidental discharge.

Frank shook his head as he spoke. "Was lookin' for a med kit; for your arm."

Karen gave a half sigh half laugh and sat down on her bed, cradling her arm across her lap. "Your knuckles are in worse shape than my arm," she said to the wall opposite her bed.

Frank looked down at his own hands for the first time since he'd been inside. The middle knuckle of his right hand was split and swelling. The rest only looked minorly red. Slight bruising and inflammation. "Had worse Ma'am."

"I don't think you killed him," Karen whispered, "but, I'm not sure."

Frank closed his eyes. He could see the junkie's face. The blue tint around the fucker's lips as he squeezed. The petechial hemorrhaging in his eyes as they rolled back in his head. The ragged gasping breaths the fucker took when Frank let his neck go. The rise of the junkie's chest when Frank had pushed against it before he stood to run to Karen's apartment with her. "He was alive when we left," Frank said evenly. "I'm sure."

Karen couldn't help herself. She let out a breath she hadn't meant to be holding.

"I should go." Frank made the statement before his mind could catch up with what his mouth was saying.

"Probably," Karen whispered.

Frank nodded to himself. She was fine, she was home, she was safe. There was no reason for him to be here any more. He moved to the door without looking back, picked up his jacket from the breakfast bar, and had his right hand on the knob before he spoke again. He looked directly ahead, not trusting himself to look at her in that moment. "Should you need me I'll be around. Just yell."

Frank opened the door.

"Frank," Karen's voice cracked as she spoke.

Frank turned with the door open to see Karen standing next to her bed, tears streaming down her face.

"Yes, Ma'am," Frank's breathing picked up its pace slightly.

"Frank," Karen started again. Her breathing was coming out in soft pants and Frank felt something stir in his chest. A pull and a twist he couldn't put his finger on.

"Yes, Karen," Frank whispered. His mouth felt dry as a he spoke and he ran his tongue along his lower lip.

Karen's brow furrowed and, when she opened her mouth to form words, she seemed to be having difficulty selecting the right words to say. Finally she settled on the simplest terms she could think of; "I need you, Frank."

A muscle in Frank's jaw twitched as his teeth ground together.

Karen bit her lip as she held her breath, trying like hell to get the tears to stop.

Frank closed the front door and slid her security chain into place; all the time watching her out of the corner of his eye. She didn't move. She just stared at him, crying.

Frank dropped his jacket back onto the breakfast bar and spanned the small studio apartment in half a dozen steps stopping a scant few inches before her. He crowded her; physically. She crowded him; with her smell, her tears, her soul. Frank used the thumb of his left hand to wipe away the evidence of her grief. She leaned her face into his palm and, as she did, Frank brought up his other hand to stroke her hair. "Red?" He phrased the name as a question and he felt her nod and push forward to lean her whole body against his; pushing her face into the same spot on his chest her hand had occupied only minutes prior.

Frank could feel all of her. Her breasts against his upper abdomen, her hands and forearms against the sides of his chest; fingers gripping shirt, releasing reflexively, and then gripping again. She was so close and he knew he wasn't supposed to feel like this. She needed comfort, she needed to be held, she needed him to just be there for her. And, if that was what she needed he would fight the instincts warring for his attention. He would push the thought of his mouth on those soft breasts to the back of his mind. He would discard the idea of pulling her head back, fingers full of the spun gold hair he was stroking, bowing her neck so he could feast on the tender skin where her shoulder flared out. Instead of these thoughts he would hold her; be there for her. He would be the man she needed in her moment of grief.

That was Frank's intention anyway; right up until the moment she pulled away from his chest and met his eyes.

"Fuck me, Frank. Please."

Frank Castle stopped breathing.

Frank would later reflect that it was the 'please' that got him. Some part of him knew that she would have never made such a request had her mind not been clouded by grief. But, despite the tears, watching that filthy word fall from her perfect mouth, Frank felt his dick twitch behind the flat front of his black 5-11 tactical pants. He pulled her head back to his chest and stroked her hair a little more forcefully as he tried to return his breathing to normal but, Karen Page wasn't having it.

Karen squirmed against powerful hands. She couldn't believe her own words. Her mind raced to catch up with her mouth. 'Fuck me Frank?!' Seriously, what the fuck had she been thinking? Pressed against his chest, folded into his arms, Karen's thoughts began to solidify in her own mind. 'Why the fuck not?' Whatever had been holding her back, the distance between them, the minor inconvenience of him being a vigilante killer, the Matt issue, 'God the Matt issue,' it all seemed so inconsequential now and all she wanted was to feel him; all of him. She needed to know him. She needed him to see her, really see her, for more than just a damsel in distress. She needed him to need her. She needed some semblance of power over this moment. It became evident, however, when Frank's hands only tightened their hold on her that he was choosing to ignore her words. Fuck him. If he wouldn't acknowledge her request she'd take what she needed.

Frank's hands stilled on Karen's hair. Even through the thin fabric of his black t-shirt he could feel her tongue moving against his skin. Frank pushed her hair out his way as he looked down to see her placing open mouthed kisses to his chest. He groaned and, as he watched, porcelain white teeth close on the material of his t-shirt, Frank balled his fist around in her hair. He pulled harder than he probably should have. Her neck came back at an awkward angle and Frank pinned her with the wild gaze of a man on the edge; an animal on a knife blade. "You don't know what you're playing at." The words came out all whiskey and razor blades and his face betrayed the pain uttering the syllables caused. "Don't ask for something you don't …. I can't …."

She smiled. Chapped lips pulling away from teeth in a way that made sure Frank knew she wasn't in full control of her own actions. It was terrible and beautiful at the same time. For a full second they stared at each other, wild eyes and mad smile, electricity crackling in the air. Frank had stopped breathing altogether and the deafening silence between them reeked with the madness of the moment.

Karen's mind wouldn't stop. She wanted him, needed him, to let go. The painful angle at which her neck was bent wasn't half as uncomfortable as the the need throbbing between her legs. She acted on impulse more than anything; driven by something older than desire. Karen sucked in air and slapped him.

Frank's hand immediately loosed his hold on Karen's hair. He reeled back from the unexpected blow and, when he did, Karen sprang at the opportunity. Lurching forward she grabbed at Frank's hair with both hands and sealed her mouth across his.

Time slowed and Frank felt it all. The sting of his cheek. The dried, chapped, skin of her lower lip as it made contact first. Followed closely by the bow of her upper lip seated slightly above his. The feel of her palms on either ear, fingertips scrambling against his scalp for traction. The balling of her right fist, then her left, as they found purchase in his hair. The sweat from her forehead when it made contact with his as she turned her head to the left. And, the moan, she, no, _he,_ let reverberate as he sucked her tongue into his mouth. His hands, not entirely under his control, coming up to frame her face. His hands slipping through strands of silken hair. His palm on the small of her back pulling her body flush to his.

Karen broke the kiss first, for the unfortunate necessity of breathing. With one of his hands on her ass and the other across the back of her neck Karen doubted breathing would ruin the moment but, just in case she found herself mumbling, "Don't stop," into the bend of Frank's neck.

Frank gave her a predatory look. "Unlikely at this point, Ma'am." His hands were roaming her back. Strong fingers feeling for snaps or buttons on her shirt back. Finding none Frank pushed his hands under the edge of her shirt and let them rest, momentarily, on the flushed skin of her back before rucking the fabric up to her bra-line and waiting. Karen pulled back from his chest and raised her arms in the air. She barely registered the dulling throb in her injured forearm and thought, briefly, that she really should get stitches. A tall woman, Karen was struck by how much smaller she felt; letting Frank pull her shirt off over her head. It made her feel...safe.

Frank discarded the blouse behind him and, for a moment, met her eyes as his hands traveled back to her heated skin. Despite years of military training; his breathing was uneven, his hands tremored, and his skin felt flushed with the hot pinpricks of adrenaline. He broke his gaze; fearing her discovery of his underlying inadequacies. This wasn't about that. This wasn't about….him. The year of following her, keeping her safe, that had been for him. This was about her. What she needed and, right now, she needed to be 'fuck'ed; 'please.' She'd said fucking 'please' to him. Frank growled as his hands lost their tremor. His mouth covered hers in an act far too brutal to be called a kiss. His left hand went to her perfect ass and his right went to work on ridding her of her of her bra.

Karen gave a squeak of surprise as Frank deftly unhooked her bra one handed. She couldn't do much else; Frank's mouth had stolen her ability to breath; to think. She pulled back only slightly to rid her arms of the straps and frowned when she pushed back forward and her nipples found the roughness of his t-shirt. Frustrated she pushed on the edge of Frank's t-shirt pulling it up as he'd done for her only moments ago. Karen groaned out a frustrated noise when he didn't raise his arms for her as she'd done for him. "Off," she moaned. She was startled when he shook his head and moved both hands to her ass.

"Not yet," Frank growled. Frank's mind was starting to get, cloudy. He knew once she got his shirt off, once she got anything off him, things would move quickly, too quickly, and he needed to see her first; all of her. Frank lifted Karen easily as he spoke, "Are you sure?" He hated asking the question. He fucking hated it more than he hated himself for being in this situation right now but, he had to be sure. The monster inside him was waiting for another slap, a shove, something to bring her back to reality. Something to go wrong.

As he lifted her Karen got the hint and wrapped long legs around Frank's narrow waist. She was busying herself sucking on his neck while her fingers danced along any exposed skin she could reach when he said it. 'Are you sure?' Karen pulled back and stared at him; really stared.

Frank didn't look away. He wanted to but, he couldn't. Her eyes bored into his soul and held him, fixed, in place. Her eyes still swollen, from crying, her lips looked bee stung, and her skin glowed with a fine sheen of sweat and excitement. She was the most Goddamned beautiful thing left in this world and Frank was positive it was the damnation of his soul to hold her in his arms.

"Frank Castle," Karen's tongue darted out to lick her lips between the words, "if you don't fuck me right now I will slap you again. Now, please, take off your shirt."

Despite the absurdity of the situation the corner of Frank's mouth quirked up in faintest ghosting of smile.

"Yes, Ma'am."

Karen beamed, for the first time all day, and Frank marveled it was as if someone had turned on the sun inside her. His breathing came easier after that. Karen's hands returned to Frank's hair and the kisses that came next were gentle and persistent; offering reassurance.

Frank's hands were full of Karen's ass with her legs wrapped around him as he walked them across the room and when his knees hit the edge of her bed he fell forward onto her mattress; catching himself easily before he crushed her beneath his torso. Karen graced him with another smile before he turned his attentions to her exposed breasts.

Karen gasped when Frank's mouth closed over her left nipple. His tongue laved the heated skin coaxing the tender flesh into a hardened peak before turning his attentions to its' mate. Her heart hammered in her chest as little jolts of electricity danced along her nervous system, terminating at the apex of her thighs. She nearly cried out with joy when Frank brought his knee between her legs.

Frank groaned against Karen's skin as he felt her rut against his leg. Her breath was coming out in short little gasps as she pressed down against him, shamelessly seeking out her pleasure. Suddenly Frank had an overwhelming need to see all of her.

Karen groaned and gave a little pout when Frank pulled back from her body then fell silent when she felt his hands at her the button of her pants. Frank made short work of the button and zip before pulling the slacks and underwear from her slim legs. Karen lifted her hips slightly in an attempt to help their removal and toed off her her sensible flats in the process. She waited for him to touch her again and, when his hands, didn't immediately return to her body, Karen opened her eyes and propped herself on one elbow. Looking down the length of her own naked body she saw Frank crouched between her legs, sitting back on his heels, back of his hand in his mouth. His chest was rising and falling at an elevated pace and Karen was struck by how incredibly human he looked there. "Don't think, Frank," she called to him. "Just come back to me. I need you."

Frank's hand dropped from his mouth. "You're so Goddamned beautiful," he growled.

Karen watched Frank move with maddening slowness. He rocked forward and reached out for her thighs. "Gah…." Karen's elbow collapsed of its own volition and she bounced the few inches backed to her mattress when she felt his fingers bite into the flesh of her legs. Her eyes squeezed shut at the feel of his facial hair against the inside of her thighs. His tongue on the tops of her legs brought a muffled "Fuck," against the back of her left forearm. She felt him gently take her knee and bend it before placing her left leg over his shoulder; when her right leg received the same treatment Karen pulled her forearm from her mouth and balled her fists full of her comforter.

"So Goddamned beautiful," Frank mumbled against her inner thigh.

Karen sucked in air as the room became unbearably still.

Frank took his time with most things; made sure. Measure twice, cut once. This was no different. Soft flaxen curls were trimmed short here and even in the dim light he could see her outer lips quiver and tense. Experimentally he brought his face within an inch of her soft flesh and exhaled against her skin. He felt her thighs pull against the side of his head in response and he watched her core flutter and weep moisture. He inhaled then; in an attempt to catalogue every moment. This moment would keep him warm for nights to come. She smelled of musk and something else sweet; something he couldn't quite place. Satisfied he could recall every aspect of the scene laid out before him Frank moved forward, just an inch, and split her lips with his tongue. Karen coughed back a scream. Frank pulled back and smiled. "Cherries," he whispered. She tasted like crimson, late August, cherries. Left to ripen too long the last cherries of the season were blood red on the steam and held within them a richer taste full of deeper notes. "I fucking love cherries," Frank prayed the words against her heated skin.

Karen heard him speaking but, she couldn't be responsible for remembering his words. His mouth on her his tounge fucking in her; fucking her. She couldn't focus on anything but the feel of him moving between her legs and when he nosed forward and found her clit she grabbed forward for his hair.

Frank felt her fingers twist in his hair and knew he was there.

"Please, right there," Karen's voice was so thin she almost didn't recognize it as her own.

Frank withdrew his tongue from her and deliberately traced a triangle, with just the tip of his tongue, around the little bundle of nerves crying out for his attention. "There," he questioned playfully.

Karen made a frustrated grunt pulling his hair where she needed. "Please, Frank," she bit out the words, "please you know where."

"Here," Frank asked as he placed open mouthed kisses to both her inner thighs.

Karen was beyond words. She let go of another frustrated whine when she felt him shift between her thighs.

Frank nuzzled into her thighs while his lower half busied itself toeing off his boots. He brought his left palm to her mound and pushed up and against her clit. "Or was it something in this area?"

Karen's breathing ripped from her body with a sob. She pulled one leg back to push against the top of his shoulder. Using that leverage she ground herself against his hand.

Pleased with himself Frank watched as Karen took her pleasure from his palm. With his free right hand he worked the snap and zip on his own pants; pushing them down to mid thigh. His cock sprang forward and he fisted himself in his own right hand while he watched Karen grind against his left. "Come on baby," he whispered, "make it happen."

Karen heard him speak but, still couldn't make out words. Her foot slipped and her ass came back to the bed. "Please," she begged, "I need more."

Frank spit into his own right hand before sliding it back home against his member. Simultaneously he shifted his left palm and pushed two fingers inside her slick heat. His mouth watered watching his fingers disappear and he slid his forehead to rest on her pubic bone before pulling her clit forward with delicate teeth, latching on with his lips, and sucking.

Karen grabbed for her pillow and pushed it over her face but, Frank could hear her high keens through the down. He felt her spasm against his fingers and bent his knuckles. Her body went ridged, thighs clenching against his ears.

It hit her like waves and, for a moment, Karen was sure she was drowning. Her breath washed away by the pleasure, the punishment, Frank was bestowing upon her. Her eyes closed and her grip faltered on the pillow. She felt her own fingers scramble against the bed clothes, looking for something solid to hold her through. In the end there was nothing. In the end he crooked his fingers and the low warm knot in her belly rolled through; bringing the expected tidal wave of pleasure that bordered on pain. In the end the only solid thing she could hold onto was Frank and she held onto him with everything she had; inside and out. Rolling her hips up with her abs she ground herself his fingers and mouth until she had nothing left. Exhausted Karen collapsed back against the bed but, Frank stayed with her. When he withdrew his fingers Karen gave an involuntary shudder at the loss. Moaning out a curse when his mouth stayed with her; soft tongue cleaning her skin.

When Karen opened her eyes again her breath came out in a soft gasp. Frank was standing at the edge of her bed. At some point he'd divested himself of his pants and, as she watched, his right hand never lost his rhythm on his cock when his left hand went behind his head to pull off the offending t-shirt she'd wanted gone before they even got the bed. The shirt came off easily and he let it roll down his right arm, forcing him to let go of his manhood momentarily to toss the shirt toward the end of the bed. Karen couldn't help but bite her lip in anticipation. His body was compact, all muscle and sinew, but, not the kind she would find at the gym she frequented near the Bulletin. This was muscle born of bare knuckle brawls in back alleys. Powerful forearms and biceps formed from evey landed punch gave way to shoulders that held the weight of his nightly activities. Pectorals carved pulling heavy artillery to perches sloped to abs earned in battle. Legs trimmed by running down of every criminal he hunted, stood wide, supporting narrow hips that framed a cock that was all God given.

And, Goddamn, God had had been generous.

Frank watched her watch him. He was painfully hard. The kind of hard he didn't get on his own. Usually he came before this; spilling over fist, eyes tight, in a squat in some nameless New England town. But this, _this_ , was different. He couldn't come now if he wanted to. He had to been inside her. He needed to be inside her as badly as he needed breath.

Karen spoke first, "Condoms."

A momentary flash of panic crossed Frank's features. He hadn't even thought; shit.

Sensing his impending panic Karen didn't leave him hanging. "In the kitchen," she pointed with a shaky hand. Independent of thought Frank's legs pulled him to her tiny kitchen his eyes scanned wildly before he heard her speak again. The words were muffled and he was surprised when he looked back to her prone figure to find she had the pillow back over her face.

"What?" Frank questioned, eyebrows raised.

"Moofie tar," Karen mumbled from under the pillow.

"What?" Frank said, a little louder this time.

Embarrassed Karen pulled the pillow from her face. "They're in the cookie jar," she enunciated clearly before stifling a chuckle and groan behind her hand.

Frank couldn't help himself. He gave a bark of laughter. It was so….Karen. Condoms in the fucking cookie jar. He spied a ceramic dog with a removable head tucked in the corner near the sink edge and pulled it to the counters' front before peering inside to see stale oatmeal raisin cookies and a strip of prophylactics emblazoned with the Trojan logo. He chuckled again as he pulled the strip from the jar and shook crumbs free of the packaging before returning to the bed.

Karen watched Frank tear one of the Trojans free of the strip and open the plastic with his teeth. Sitting up abruptly she deftly plucked the torn square from his fingers, removed the condom, and pulled his hand away from his member before rolling the barrier down for him. Even though she knew she hated the taste she couldn't help herself. She was already so close.

Frank sucked in air when her lips closed over the head of his cock. Her slim hand banded him at the base and she gave an experimental slide and twist with her hand as she increased the suction and pressure on the head. He couldn't let her continue. Not now. He was too fucking close already and her mouth there, even through the latex, was pure fucking bliss. Frank pulled her back by a fistfull of her hair. "Not now baby," he groaned. "I won't fucking last." He groaned again when her saw the pride that crossed her face.

"After we're done with this," Karen said running her fingertip around the base of the condom, "I'm going to suck you dry."

Frank almost choked then. How could someone so beautiful say such filthy fucking things? He pushed on her shoulders sending Karen softly back prone on the bed. Steadying his breathing he reached for the pillow next to her shoulder and lifted her, easily, by her ankles, before shoving the pillow under her ass and placing both her ankles on his left shoulder. Taking just a beat Frank eyed her injured arm. It seemed so long ago now. He shook his head to clear his mind and pushed forward taking care to stay away from the makeshift dishtowel bandage. Frank continued slowly, so slowly, pushing his chest toward hers, climbing on the bed as he went. The pressure on her legs caused her pelvis to tilt, upwards, as he positioned himself over her. When he was as close to her as he could get Frank crooked his neck, dropping his head the extra two inches, to seal his lips over hers.

Karen felt the tightness in the backs of her thighs ease as he climbed slowly over her. Her body hummed with anticipation and she was grateful for the kiss. It was distracting and, when his lips opened, she tasted herself on his tongue. He moved his head to the side and nuzzled her cheek with his beard. "Relax," she heard him whisper.

Frank felt her tremble. He moved his right hand back to his cock guiding it so the head was lined with her opening. He broke the kiss and rubbed his head against hers; the way an animal would mark its mate. "Relax," he whispered against her skin and, in one swift movement, Frank was home inside her.

Karen's eyes flew open at the feeling, the fullness. It was more than she'd ever….deeper….just….more. Her hands scrambled to his back. Nails raking against skin. She was sure she had left marks and she didn't feel the least bit bad about it.

He was whispering to her again.

"You feel that?" He called in hush tones. "Has anyone ever been this deep in you before? Am I the first?"

Karen fought for breath as he started a slow pull out and slammed back home; bottoming out inside her.

"You see, I think I'm the first. The first like this. The first to be the deep. The first to fuck you the way you should be; the way you need."

Karen could only listen to the mumbling obscenities. She couldn't have formed words now if she wanted to but, he was searching her eyes as his hips picked up. He needed an answer. Who'd have thought the Punisher would be a talker.

Frank's lips quirked a smile when he saw her give shaky nod. He moved his lips to her forehead, dropping a kiss there. "That's what I thought," he said. "Any man after, I want you to know, he'll know I was here first."

It was a cocky, self assured, response but, the way Frank said it Karen mused, later, it just sounded like an observation. A bit of information for her own personal knowledge.

Frank's breathing was coming faster now. He backed his upper body away from her chest. Kneeling on the bed he never lost his rhythm. One hand went to her legs, holding them in place. The other hand found it's way around her thigh, to her clit, and he began to stroke it in time with his thrusts.

Karen reached out for any part of his body she could grab, touch, hold. Her world was crashing apart in wave after wave and she couldn't reach any piece of his body with her hands. Desperate to hold onto something her hands found her own breasts. She rolled the nipples between shaky fingers and bucked up in time to his thrusts as the waves brought electricity washing over her skin.

Sweat broke out across Frank's brow. This was pushing it, even for him. Every pull back her body sucked at his cock and each thrust forward she only gripped him tighter. A familiar pull started at the base of his spine. It was a force Frank knew well. One that couldn't be stopped. "Karen," he gasped between thrusts, "Karen I'm so close. Come on baby," he growled strumming at her clit, increasing the pressure fractionally.

As with so many things in life a little more was all it took. For the second time in as many hours Karen's world was washed over by an ocean of electric pleasure. Time slowed; then stopped. Her own nails bit harshly into their respective breasts. She was drowning, dying, again, and she wasn't afraid because he was too.

When Frank felt her go he roared his own release. His spine bowed forward and he pushed both her ankles off his shoulder. Unencumbered by their pressure, Frank collapsed forward. Some part of his mind pushed his forearms forward so he wouldn't crush her completely under his weight and he found himself huffing soft breath into the side of her neck as he tried to pull his consciousness back to reality.

Seconds turned into a full minute before Frank noticed Karen's body softly shaking under his. He lifted himself slightly; fearing tears of remorse. What he saw instead surprised him.

Karen couldn't help it. Laughter bubbled forth softly. Starting somewhere deep in her gut it pushed itself free of the confines of her body despite, or maybe because of, Frank's dead weight. She was happy. For the first in what seemed like, well, forever. Even as she tried to quiet it Karen's body shook with the force of her joy. If she'd stopped to think she would have realized all the problems with what they had just done. The 'accessory after the fact' problem. The no future in a relationship issue. Oh, and the fact that the man she chose to sleep with couldn't be trusted not to murder people on a weekly basis. But, in that moment, all Karen felt was a bliss that calmed her soul and brought forth joy.

Frank didn't know exactly what to think. Laughter was a new one to him after sex. "You okay?" Frank whispered the question into Karen's neck. Her only response was a warm smile and a nod. Frank pushed back off her torso dropping kisses to her outer arm as he lifted himself to his knees. Carefully he held the bottom edge of the condom and pulled his softening member from inside her. Karen's face contorted from a smile to a soft gasping 'O' as he pulled himself from her wet heat.

Karen watched as Frank lifted himself from above her and made his way across her bedroom to the tiny trashcan by her dresser. Once there he knotted the condom with practiced ease and dropped it in the bin before looking back to her. His face, despite his beard, still sported a myriad of visible bruises, his knuckles were more swollen than when they had come in, and he had fresh nail marks (hers) along the side of his chest. Despite all that he looked calm there; at peace. Naked in her livingroom/bedroom/kitchen area seemed to suit Frank Castle and that knowledge only served to make Karen smile again.

Frank felt her eyes on him as he moved across the room. When he looked back she was smiling at him from her place on the bed. Gone was the madness from her earlier gaze. Gone was the pain, the fear, the exhaustion. Left in their place Frank only saw saw a placid joy, a peace, he hadn't seen in her the entire year he'd been following her. He crossed the room back her bed and was pleasantly surprised when Karen held her hand out to him, beckoning him back to her.

Karen scooched over on her full bed. Making room for Frank to lay next to her lengthwise. When she held her hand out to him she half expected him to bolt. When he took her hand and laid next to her she rolled to her side and pushed her back to his front. Folded in his warmth she relaxed back into his grasp as he slid right arm under her neck and banded his left around her waist; fingers splayed across her belly.

Karen's eyes began to drift shut just as the dawn was pushing soft twilight through her single window.

Frank's breathing was evening in time with hers when, suddenly he felt her jolt awake. Slim fingers found the hand on her belly and her voice sounded small against the early morning hours.

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

Frank dropped a kiss to the back of her neck, "Yes, Ma'am," he whispered through hushed lips. He felt her relax again, at his response, and, within a minute, her breathing had slowed and he felt her go boneless against him. Once he was sure she was out Frank closed his own eyes and, for the first time in years, Frank Castle succumbed a dreamless sleep.

 _Don't care if he's guilty, don't care if he's not_

 _He's good and he's bad and he's all that I've got_

 _Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I'm begging you please_

 _Don't take that sinner from me_

 _Oh don't take that sinner from me_

 **Devil's Backbone -** (The Civil Wars)

 **Until next time; cheers and happy writing. - Rev**


End file.
